Lace and Silk - English version
by SherlockSnape
Summary: "It was official, Hannibal was a fucking diva." Or when Will doesn't know what to think about Hannibal's many cosmetics and wonders what other little secrets Hannibal is hiding in his drawers.


**Lace and Silk**

 **Note:** This OS is pure crack, don't take it seriously XD

* * *

Will didn't know what to think.

Since he and Hannibal had defeated the Great Red Dragon, eaten Bedelia and run away from the United States to hide in France, all their actions were motivated by survival instinct. Getting fake IDs, new identities, taking a plane, finding a refuge, healing, keeping a close eye on the media. Then, starting a new life, getting a job, a new social circle, blending in, staying invisible. Many things were pending. Talks they should have had, habits they had taken naturally without speaking and limits they had not set yet.

And that's how Will found himself in their bathroom that morning, totally confused about some details he hadn't noticed before.

He had opened the closet to take his shaving foam, when he suddenly realized that the little furniture was filled with small bottles and tubes completely unknown to him. Hannibal had an impressive variety of cosmetics: masks, skin exfoliant, moisturizers for face and body, anti wrinkle cream, concealer, after shave, shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, deodorant and – for Christ's sake – a jar of depilatory wax. All of them were the same brand that Will didn't know and seemed very expensive.

Will's stuff fitted on only one shelf. A shower gel he used to wash his hair too, cheap shaving foam, some disposable razors and a moisturizer of a well-known brand from the supermarket.

Will didn't like clichés and Hannibal remained an incredibly virile man to him, no matter what, but this finding about his intimacy gave him an unexpected feminine side, almost precious. It was official, the cannibal was a fucking diva.

Will closed the door of the closet and started to get him ready for the day. But, a question played on a loop in his head, over and over: What other little secrets Hannibal was hiding? Lace panties under a false bottom in his sock drawer? This idea made him burst out laughing when he brushed his teeth and he splashed the mirror with toothpaste. And, while he was taking a towel to clean the glass, he realized that he _had_ to know.

Hannibal was downstairs, in the kitchen. Will could hear crackling in a frying pan and utensils' noises. He cooked breakfast. The coast was clear. Will walked out the bathroom and entered the adjacent room. Hannibal's bedroom.

The bed was perfectly made, there was no dust, no mess anywhere, and a suit was on a hanger, still wrapped in the dry-cleaner's plastic. Probably the one he was planning to wear. Will come closer silently to the commode and opened the first drawer. Branded boxers and socks perfectly tidy and aligned. He memorized each one to put them back in place properly, and then he dug inside with his hands to find a notch or an irregularity in the wood.

But there was nothing unusual, so he set in order and opened the next drawer. T-shirts and pullovers well ordered too. None of them had the same shade or pattern and they were sorted by color. He rolled his eyes, seeing such fussiness, and searched the drawer, when the atmosphere changed in the room. It took him a few seconds to realize that there was no noise from the kitchen anymore and to perceive the weak breath behind him. He froze, as he could become invisible if he didn't move. Some predators could only see prey in motion after all.

"Will, what are you doing?"

Apparently, Hannibal wasn't part of that kind. The tone of his voice was neutral, although tinged with a subtle surprise. He just wanted to know what Will was doing in his commode. Will got up slowly and turned to him, avoiding eye contact.

"I… uh…"

There was a time when Will could lie to Hannibal without blinking. But, at this precise moment, he stood in the middle of the room, unable to explain himself.

"You were looking for something? You can ask me anything, I'll gladly lend it to you."

"Yes..." Will replied, hesitantly. "I'm out of... clean socks."

Hannibal stared at him for a while, squinting as he tried to read in Will's mind.

"I find this highly unlikely, because we did laundry yesterday and I remember very well seeing your socks in the dryer."

Will sighed, defeated, and felt the sweat run over this back.

"I can't explain what I was doing without looking like... uh..." He moved his hand, without finding the right word.

"Like what, Will?"

"A kind of… pervert."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. He didn't expect this answer.

"What exactly did you imagine? Some objects for pleasure?"

"No!" Will shouted, before freezing. "You have it?"

"You won't know until you tell me the truth."

"It's because all those cosmetics in the bathroom," Will said, looking for words.

Hannibal waited patiently for the end of the sentence.

"I mean... Even Molly didn't have so much... So, I wondered..."

"What other things I could hide in my room?" The cannibal proposed, amused by Will's embarrassment.

Will nodded, looking away.

"And... What did you expect?" The psychiatrist asked, taking a step towards him.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you know. You were thinking about something specific. Tell me what it is."

Another step, and Hannibal was too close. Then Will whispered an unintelligible answer.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Women's underwear," he repeated a little louder.

"Do you want me to wear it?" Hannibal questioned him.

Will jumped and stared at him, his mouth half open.

"What...?" He shouted.

"My question is perfectly legitimate. If you're wondering, it is because you see an interest in this."

Will found nothing to say for a while. Since they allowed themselves to get comfortable and relax, the tension between them had only increased until it became unbearable. Lately, being in the same room with Hannibal had been almost a suffering for Will. A _physical_ pain. A need hard to control that he didn't understand. Without even mentioning that Hannibal was a man, Will wasn't used to ache for anyone. Not in this completely consuming, obsessional and devastating way. He liked sex, as most people. But the impulse that ran through him when the cannibal touched him was nothing to do with sex. It was much more primitive, deeper and brutal.

"I didn't think about it before acting."

"I see," the psychiatrist said. "And now?"

Hannibal was too close. His smell prevented Will to think clearly. The words jumped out of his mouth before he thought about keeping it.

"Seeing you naked would be a good start."

Hannibal smirked and pulled on the belt of his bathrobe. With a shoulder turn, he pushed back the silk fabric that fell on the floor without a sound. Then, he unbuttoned his pajama top, before removing it slowly, as he wanted to give Will the time to change his mind. He paused, when Will looked at his torso with bated breath and put a hand on his skin. His fingers stroked his chest, on his heart that beat so fast, and slid down on his belly.

"Take off your pants," Will said with a firm voice.

Hannibal slipped his thumbs under the elastic waistband of his pajama pants and pushed it down. The clothes slid along his legs and pooled around his ankles. Then he stood with his arms by his side. Will looked down, still observing him, his blue eyes taking every detail in his memory palace: his firm belly, his narrow hips, his brawny thighs, and between them, his soft cock that he stared at long enough to blush. Then, he raised his head and faced Hannibal, who waited, curious.

"Kiss me," Will said.

"Such an authority…"

"Shut up. I'm giving the orders."

Hannibal got a shiver, goosebumps on his arms and his pupils dilated, but it was his only reactions, before grasping Will's nape abruptly and kissing him. The kiss was anything but tender. The cannibal ravaged Will's mouth, tried to own it and to take control. But the ex-profiler didn't remain passive and grabbed his hair to pull his head back and pushed him on the bed without warning. Hannibal lost his balance because of his ankles blocked by the pants and fell on the mattress. With his feet, he removed the clothing and got comfortable, staring defiantly at Will, dignified in his glorious nudity. Will was out of breath. He got undressed and knelt down on the bed. Hannibal looked at him, devoured his body with his eyes, the smile on his belly, the scars on his cheek, his chest, his shoulders. Will wore his suffering on his skin, just like him, and he was even more beautiful. He crawled on top of him and sat on his hips.

"What do you have in mind, my dear Will?"

"You're going to fuck me until I forget my name and everything outside of this room. Because I need this to not feel empty anymore, so my life will make sense. I need to absorb you entirely, need you to leave your mark in me, need to belong to you."

Hannibal sank his hands in Will's back and grabbed his firm and plump ass. Their erections slid off one against the other and they moaned. Seeing the pleasure on Will's face deeply touched the Cannibal, he wanted more, that he lost control and gave himself to him. He reached out to the night stand, while Will leaned on him to kiss him again. He searched the drawer and pulled out a small bottle that seemed as luxurious as the rest of his cosmetics. He removed the cap with his thumb and his forefinger, and then he poured a generous amount of massage oil on Will's back, making him shiver.

"What is that smell?" He asked, when a sweet perfume rose in the room.

"Jasmine," Hannibal answered, smearing his back.

He firmly massaged his muscles, Will leaned his forehead on his shoulder, and then he slipped his fingers between the fleshy globes. He stroked the sensitive crack, drew small circles around the receptive hole. Will tensed, bit his neck and arched his back.

"No one's ever touched you like this?" Hannibal whispered in Will's ear.

Will shook his head, unable to speak when a finger entered him.

"You like it," he then noticed, when Will muffled a moan against his collarbone.

Hannibal prepared Will meticulously, listening to each change in his voice, watching him surrendered himself in his arms, against his chest, enjoying to feel the muscles relax to let his fingers in. Will sat up, seized the small bottle, poured oil into his hand and slid an arm behind his back to stroke Hannibal's dick, before guiding it inside him. Then, inch by inch, he slowly took it, while Hannibal gripping his hips strong enough to bruise, lips parted in a silent cry. When he was closely tight in the heat of Will's body, he dropped his head back on the pillow, gasping for air, and he fought against himself not to move, to let him adapt, discover the sensation of being full. Will's eyes were closed and his mouth open in a desperate attempt to breathe, while the pain pierced him. His nails scratched Hannibal's chest, then he gazed into his hazel orbs.

"Relax, breathe. Go at your own pace, use me as you please, I am yours," the cannibal said, caressing the small of his back.

Will nodded, before moving carefully, but deeply. The beast in his lower abdomen was somewhat calmed down now it finally had what it wanted so passionately. The feeling was strange, unknown to him, transcendent, as they became one in body and mind. He moved slowly, arched his back, feeling Hannibal to go back and forth. The cannibal was guiding him, his hands still firmly clinging to his sides. They didn't turn away, even when Will sped up the pace.

Then, Hannibal seized him suddenly by the waist and pinned him to the mattress before fucking him harder. Will cried, hold him, wrapped his legs around his hips and devoured his lips. Hannibal took him stronger, looking at him while he was twisting on the sheets. Will was so receptive, open at this precise moment. No more barriers, no more walls, his eyes were only two bottomless lagoons, in which Hannibal drowned and was able to read all the emotions hidden there until then. He took Will's cock in his hand and stroked it ruthlessly. Will grabbed his wrist, dug his nails in it to guide the jerky and relentless move until he came all over Hannibal's belly, tensing on the bed and whimpering Hannibal's name. Will's muscles clenched around Hannibal and he came into him, taut as a bow, before leaning his forehead on Will's chest, who slipped his hands in his golden-gray hair.

They caught their breath, huddled up against each other. For a moment of eternity, nothing existed outside their world.

A few days later, while they were still adjusting to the changes of their relationship, Will came home one evening and found Hannibal in the kitchen. There was nothing unusual in this, of course, but something was strange. He came closer to the cannibal, kissed him tenderly, then sat down on the kitchen counter and stared at his partner while he cooked dinner. He was thinking that he will never get tired of this, when Hannibal walked to the fridge. That's when he finally noticed it. His gait was slightly different, as if he was not comfortable in his clothes. And Will had a doubt and his curiosity pushed him down from the counter to move forward his lover who turned the back on him.

He felt him approaching and leaned on his chest when Will hugged him and kissed his neck. Will put his warm palms his belly. Hannibal said nothing when Will opened his pants, and he held his breath when he slid his hands inside and froze. Because Will recognized without difficulty the irregular contours of the lace under his fingertips. He looked down the red underwear.

"I thought you'd rather a black one," he said.

"I don't really like the black, Will. I've always preferred colors."

"And... When would I have the privilege to admire you only dressed with this tiny piece of fabric?"

"After dinner," Hannibal decided, rebuttoning his pants.

"Boring," Will grumbled.

But the smile on his face said otherwise and they sat down to table together to share a tartare made with the heart of an incompetent plumber.

* * *

 **THE END**


End file.
